


Ashes to Ashes

by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot)



Series: Longing and Belonging [4]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Dragon Renee, Dragons, F/M, Loss of Parent(s), Minor Character Death, witch dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofcamelot/pseuds/Leahelisabeth
Summary: Matt choked and gagged as he inhaled a lungful of smoke. He pushed his legs faster even as his breath rasped in his throat. The string of fish he was carrying caught in a bush by the side of the trail and instead of taking the time to untangle them, he dropped them and went on.It didn’t matter in the end. He was too late. The fire had burnt through, leaving bare black branches in its wake. He ran on, though the heat of the ground scorched his feet, even through his leather sandals. A cry broke free from his mouth as his village came in to view. Not a single wall still stood.Matt Boyd loses everything to dragon's fire. But he finds something new in the ashes too.





	1. Chapter 1

Matt choked and gagged as he inhaled a lungful of smoke. He pushed his legs faster even as his breath rasped in his throat. The string of fish he was carrying caught in a bush by the side of the trail and instead of taking the time to untangle them, he dropped them and went on.

It didn’t matter in the end. He was too late. The fire had burnt through, leaving bare black branches in its wake. He ran on, though the heat of the ground scorched his feet, even through his leather sandals. A cry broke free from his mouth as his village came in to view. Not a single wall still stood. All the houses had collapsed into embers. He almost vomited as he saw the carnage of a half-eaten sheep.

Matt stopped at the door of his home and he didn’t know what to do next. She must have gotten out. She couldn’t be gone. These were just things lying in the wreckage, his carvings were precious but he could make more. They could start over.

And then he saw it, it was covered in soot so it took time for him to realize what he was seeing. But then he was leaping forward, clawing at the coals, ignoring the pain in his fingers, heaving at the heavy beams. He stood in disbelief for just moment at what he had uncovered before he crumpled to the ground, sobbing wordlessly.

She was almost unrecognizable but there was enough there that he did not doubt her identity, the scrap of fabric from her favourite dress, the shape of her charred fingers, still graceful after the fire, the locket he had given her for her birthday, now melted and fused with her forever.

“I’m sorry,” a voice broke through his grief.

He staggered upright in an attempt to defend himself but went back to his knees when the pain from his burned feet could be ignored no longer.

“Did you?” he gasped. “Did you do this?” And he looked up at the person standing before him, barely able to see them through his tears.

“No, of course not. But I knew she would attack again and I just missed her,” they said.

“Her?” he asked.

“The Scourge,” the voice said.

“The dragon,” he gasped.

“Yes,” they replied. “You can’t stay here. She will return if she discovers her devastation was incomplete.”

“But...my mother,” Matt wept. “I can’t leave her. She’s all I have.”

“Yes, and you are all she had too. Do you think she wants you to die staying at her side?” the voice sneered.

Matt shook his head helplessly but that did not stop him from sinking back into the ashes at his mother’s side.

The voice softened. A gentle hand touched his forehead. “Sleep,” they crooned. And Matt slept.

* * *

He wasn’t sure where he was when he woke up. The rock walls and low ceiling were lit by nothing but firelight. He shifted, expecting to feel rock below him as well, but he was cradled in softness and warmth. As he looked around, he saw a cloaked figure, huddled by the small, smokeless fire. Noticing he was awake, they stood and grabbed a bowl that was sitting near the fire.

“Eat this,” they said.

Matt sat up, reached out uncertain hands and took the bowl, the outside was cooler than he had expected but the broth inside was steaming hot. He sipped carefully. It was one of the best things he had ever tasted and he could feel strength returning to him with every drop.

“How long?” he asked once he had drained the bowl.

“About five hours. Enough time for me to heal your burns,” his rescuer said, finally removing their hood to revel the face of a young woman. She was fine featured, small nose, high defined cheekbones, close cropped, tightly curled hair. Her eyes were warm and brown, no, dark forest green with a light shining in the depths.

“And you’re just sitting around waiting on me when you could be out chasing the dragon that...killed...my entire village?” Matt said bitterly.

“How much do you know about dragons?” the woman asked.

“The important things,” Matt sulked. “They breathe fire that can destroy a village.”

“Yes, they do. But they never possess magic beyond that of flame. If this were an ordinary dragon, I would have stopped her years ago. She wouldn’t have destroyed my own village. There were at least a dozen witches that could have driven a dragon away with less effort than it takes to shoo a fly, several more who could have tamed it and taught it to eat the predators that threatened our home, and even a few who could have snapped their fingers and burnt it to a cinder. But our village is gone and I alone survive, Danielle, the last Witch of the Wilds,” she stands, her cloak billowing out behind her in a wind that shouldn’t exist and, though Matt has at least a foot and a hundred pounds on her, he is terrified.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, hunching down and averting his eyes.

“You didn’t understand,” she dismissed him and seated herself again, once more looking like just another village girl. “Somehow she has the ability to cloak herself and her whereabouts. I can’t sense her at all until I can feel her intent and by then, it is too late and I’m burying another village.”

“Did you bury my mother?” Matt whispered.

Danielle looked at him and he could feel the awful sadness radiating from her. “I returned them all to the forest. If you wait a few days, I will show you the tree that marks her resting place. The magic will be strong enough then.” She hesitated then and he waited to see if she would continue. “I found these with her body. She was protecting them. I assumed...or hoped it was something precious to you.”

Matt cried out as Danielle carefully handed him the polished wooden box that held his carving tools. He clutched them to his chest and stopped fighting back his tears. Danielle left him alone to cry.

At first, he didn't know what to do. He remembered how she had treasured every piece he had ever carved, starting with his first misshapen deer and lopsided bears. Every piece was greeted with the same delight as the very first. What was the point of it all now? For an instant, he was tempted to throw the box into the fire. But first he opened it to look at them one last time. Lovingly, he ran his fingers over each carefully polished tool. He gripped one by the handle, feeling how it fit into his hand like an extension of his arm. Before he was aware of his own intentions, he was digging through the pile of firewood until he found the piece that spoke to him and slowly he began to release the sculpture from the block of wood. 

He was not sure how long he carved but his back ached and his eyes burned by the time he finally set his project down. 

“She was very beautiful," Danielle said from the entrance to their cavern. “That is her, right?" 

Matt could only nod, not even looking up from his sculpture. A woman danced, his mother, frozen in time, every detail faithfully copied from the last happiest day. 

Danielle sat down beside him. “You have a gift," she said. 

“That's what she always said," Matt looks at the tools in his hands, feeling adrift once more now that the inspiration had left him. 

“Come," Danielle said. “I have an idea." 

She pulled him to his feet and led him from the cave. He blinked in the late afternoon sun. He soon recognized the path they followed. His footsteps slowed as they neared his village. 

It didn't look like the same place. Trees were poking up from the ground and moss was already carpeting the ground. If Matt didn't know every inch of these woods, he would have thought they were in a different place entirely. 

Danielle led him to a small sapling, maybe a foot tall. “This is where your mother rests," she murmured. 

Matt dropped to his knees but this time, he did not cry. He moved to set his figurine at the base of the tree but Danielle reached over his shoulder and held out her hand. He carefully handed her the tiny statue. 

She smiled reassuringly at him before gripping one hand tight around the figurine and pressing her palm to the tiny trunk. The tree moved, swelling in some places, shrinking in others, until finally, his mother's likeness was captured within the tree. 

“The tree will grow but the enchantment will remain. No one will forget your mother," Danielle said softly. 

“Thank you," Matt said, catching Danielle up in a fierce hug. 

Danielle stiffened in his arms but soon relaxed and tentatively hugged him back. 

“Let me come with you," Matt blurted impulsively. “Let me help you, for your family and mine." 

Danielle pulled back and looked at him for a moment. “What's your name?" She asked. 

“Oh, it's Matt." He blushed. 

“Matt," she repeated quietly. “The road has been a little lonely. Will you do what I tell you to do?" 

Matt nodded enthusiastically. “Danielle, I promise I will follow your lead." 

Danielle smiled and held out her hand. “You can call me Dan."


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t take long for them to establish a routine. Dan had been wandering for a long time but decided that the cave was as good a place as any to set up a home base. Matt was in charge of the food. He started out early most mornings, heading to the stream for fish or working the little garden patch he had started. Dan foraged at first, coming home with heaping baskets full of herbs. Mat sneaked out a few cuttings the third day and started another plot for Dan beside his own. After that, Dan would tend her garden, working silently at his side. In the afternoons, Dan would renew the spells that surrounded their cave, one to confound travellers and turn them aside, one to sense dragon fire, and a third, ready to form a portal at all times to whisk them to any place the dragon might attack. Matt would watch. He learned a little spellcraft but he did not have the talent to do more than assist. After they had been there for a week, Dan brought him a sword. And then at least an hour every day was spent in weapons practice.

The evenings were Matt’s favourite. They would sit in their cave by the fire, another spell blocking out the chill of the night. Matt would pick up one of the many logs that called to him during the day and he would pull out his box of tools. Dan would tell stories and Matt would carve, taking the fantastic creatures and wonderful characters from her stories and capturing them in the wood.

Sometimes Dan would enchant the wood so he could carve through it as smooth as butter and pare it as thin as a dragonfly’s wing without breaking it. Matt ached when he thought of how proud his mother would be if he could only show her.

Sometimes it was easy to forget why he was here. He could throw himself into building this life, tending this garden, falling in love with this strange, sweet, powerful girl. But sometimes he woke in the middle of the night, choking on the smell of bodies burnt to ashes. Sometimes he stared at his own hands for hours wondering why, out of all of the people he knew and loved, he alone had been spared. He thought he might drown in the unworthiness. He still had failed to find his revenge.

Dan kept looking, waiting patiently for the dragon to return. She would soothe Matt through his frustrations. “Sometimes she disappears for weeks or months. There is no rhythm to it. There is nothing more we can do than be ready.” And then they would train with the sword until Matt’s arms were too weak to continue. He wouldn’t take out his tools those nights but would instead cry himself into an uneasy sleep.

Until finally, he heard the sound they had both been waiting for, a wailing from Dan’s scrying glass. They wasted no time. Matt leapt for his sword and Dan for her staff and they were stepping into the portal with no delay.

It was like walking into hell. Matt had been too late to see this when his own village had been incinerated but here, they were in the midst of the inferno, and for the first time, Matt saw the monster who had stolen everything from him. Her great wings whipped the air, feeding the fires she had begin and great gouts of flame poured out of her mouth, setting the trees and homes ablaze.

A child screamed and Matt turned away to see a little girl, hair singed away, desperately trying to drag her unresponsive mother out of the path of the flames. He sheathed his sword immediately and leapt toward them. He had no time to be gentle. He threw the woman over his shoulder and snatched the girl up under one arm and ran away from the fire. The village was on the bank of the river and as he got closer, Matt could see a number of other villagers huddling in the cold water. He carefully lowered his burden to their waiting arms and then he was dashing back toward Dan and the dragon.

As he neared them, Dan shouted and a bright blue light exploded out of her, extinguishing the village and completely immobilizing the dragon. Matt drew his sword once more and, with an incoherent yell, raced forward to slay the dragon.

“Matt, stop,” Dan said softly as he neared. His blade stopped an inch from the dragon’s green eye, where it rolled wildly in it’s socket.

His arms trembled with the force of the aborted blow but he stopped, looked at Dan, and waited.

“Slice here,” Dan indicated a spot about a foot below the dragon’s head. “Just through the air.”

Matt didn’t understand but he did it, surprised when his sword met resistance. He pushed through and the air erupted into bright green sparks.

Dan nodded and stepped closer to the dragon, letting her hand hover an inch above the creature’s neck and soon there was another fountain of green sparks. The dragon slowly slumped to the ground, her eyes draining of their unnatural green and settling into a warm topaz. She looked around at the village, threw her head back and roared. Matt’s grip on his sword hilt tightened but there were no more flames. The roar wasn’t full of anger but full of sorrow.

Dan turned to Matt. “Don’t do anything until I return. It will be perfectly safe.” She put her hands on Matt’s shoulder and the dragon’s said a few words, and they were standing beside Matt’s vegetable garden.

Matt didn’t turn his back on the dragon. He stood there, stock still, sword raised. The dragon looked at him but did not try to go nearer. She slowly laid her head down on her front paws and stared at Matt, not even blinking.

After a while, Matt relaxed enough to really look at her. He had always imagined dragons to be black or green, maybe even red, but the Scourge was white. Her scales showing hints of iridescent rainbows when she shifted and her wings shone like marble, shot through with veins of gold. She was almost the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But she was still a killer. Matt’s hands shook as a curtain of rage dropped over his eyes and he certainly would have slaughtered her had Dan not arrived that moment.

“Matt, I need rosemary, dill, and St. John’s wort,” Dan practically shouted, looking over her shoulder at the portal behind her. 

“But, the dragon…” he started.

“Now!” Dan roared. “And I need your sword.”

Matt handed it to her with only momentary hesitation before leaping into Dan’s garden and pulling up handfuls of her lovingly planted herbs.

Dan knelt in front of the portal, Matt’s sword held like a barrier in front of her, droplets of sweat trickling down her temples. Matt dropped to his knees beside her, arms overflowing with plants.

“Hold this,” Dan said. “Just like I am.” And she handed his sword back. Matt shivered at the weight of malice he could feel coming through the portal, only barely blocked by the sword. Dan mashed the herbs together between her palms, muttering under her breath, until a white light shot from her palms and sewed the portal together. In seconds there was nothing left but a scar on the earth where the portal had touched.

Dan dropped her arms and collapsed into a sitting position. Matt was already whirling to face the dragon at their back, sword at the ready even though his arms trembled from the unknown force in the portal.

The Scourge had not moved. She remained, head on her paws, wings tucked into her sides, eyes lowered and blinking slowly in a pose of submission.

“It’s alright,” Dan said. “She won’t hurt us.”

“Forgive me if I’m a little skeptical of that fact,” Matt gritted through his teeth.

“I’m serious,” Dan said. “Lower your weapon.” She shakily pulled herself to her feet and walked toward the dragon, hand outstretched. The dragon closed her eyes entirely and allowed Dan to place her hand flat on her snout.

Matt crouched, ready to leap to Dan’s defense, but the dragon simply relaxed and a rhythmic rumbling emanated from her chest.

“I don’t understand,” Matt said. “Why haven’t you killed her? Why didn’t you let me kill her? She killed my mother!”

The dragon flinched away from Matt and a moan whistled from her throat.

Dan’s eyes glittered brightly with tears. “Trust me for just a little while longer. I need you to go find me some wormwood and yarrow. I don’t have enough for a spell of this magnitude.”

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Matt said.

“I will,” Dan left the dragon and came toward him. She stretched out her hand and cradled his cheek. “Just give me some time to figure it out. But all is not as it seems.”

Matt nodded and took off running into the forest. He may be leaving but he would not leave Dan alone with that monster any longer than he had to.

It still took him a long time and by the time he returned, the dragon had scorched a large circle, big enough to sit inside, in the flattest part of their clearing. Dan had marked out a circle in chalk with strange symbols at even intervals along its circumference. One of her oldest scrying bowls was set up at the dragon’s nose and Dan was carefully measuring herbs and oils into it. She smiled when she saw him with the bag of herbs and quickly ripped them into pieces and added them into the bowl.

“Will you lend me your strength?” Dan asked, reaching out her hand. Matt hesitated slightly but took it and stood by the bowl with her.

Dan began to chant once more. She gestured at the bowl of herbs and it leapt into flame. Matt felt something surge through him, lightning so strong he could not tell where he ended and Dan began.

When it was over, they slumped together to the ground. Matt staggered under a wave of exhaustion. There was no dragon in the circle, just a girl, milk pale, white hair reflecting the same rainbows he’d just seen in dragon scales.

Dan recovered first, standing and going to the girl, pulling her to her feet, covering her nakedness with Dan’s own cloak.

“Come,” Dan said to Matt. “We will rest and then all will be answered.

Matt staggered after her into the cave. He dropped to his bed, not even bothering to wrap himself up in blankets, and he slipped painlessly into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

For a moment after he woke up, Matt could pretend that everything was the same. He knew this bed, the smell of the rock and the dry herbs in the air that made him feel he was always on the verge of a sneeze, the sound of Dan beginning her morning routine of stretches and meditation, the pitter patter of rain outside the cave mouth that told him he should drag himself up and to the stream for fish, the cold breeze that tempted him to stay wrapped up in the blankets for just a little longer.

But he sat up and opened his eyes and caught sight of the third occupant of their little cave and he couldn’t pretend anymore. The dragon was still in the form of a girl, and naked once more. She slept, curled up on herself like any lizard he had ever seen, and directly in the middle of the fire. He stared at her, half expecting her hair to melt away or her skin to char and blacken and split open like every body he had seen in his hometown. But the fire danced over her skin like pixies in red, green, and blue flames. As he watched, she stirred and sat up. All too soon she was facing him, looking him in the eye. Dan left her stretching and opened her mouth to speak.

“I’m going fishing,” Matt said in a rush. He was out of the cave with his gear in what felt like seconds. He had left his cloak and his shoes behind and he was already shivering under the cold drizzle but he could not go back, not just yet.

He’s not sure exactly how long he sat on the bank of the river, fishing mindlessly, but he had a string of fifteen and the rain had given way to a scorching sun before he came back to himself. The fish had not been biting for some time now and he knew he had no excuse to stay away any longer.

He walked slowly back to the cave, limping where a careless step had torn a small gash in the bottom of his foot. Dan and the dragon were silent when he walked in. He didn’t acknowledge them, just grabbed his fish knife and methodically began to gut them and descale them.

“Matt,” Dan started, but he did not look up. “Matt, please. I know how you must feel.”

“Oh,” Matt said bitterly. “You’re acknowledging my feelings now? Like I have some say in any of your decisions.”

“You don’t know…” Dan pleaded.

“She killed my mother!” Matt shouted. “What else is there to know?”

“Why,” Dan said. “You need to know why.”

“Alright then, why? What possible reason could there be that could cause you to forgive so much death and destruction? It’s not just my mother. It’s every one of the thousands of men, women, and children we lost to her flames,” Matt picked up another fish, slicing into its belly with barely contained fury.

“He’s right, Dan,” the dragon finally spoke. “Regardless of the reasons, I deserve death for what I have done.”

“See?” Matt gestures with the mangled fish in his hand. “She knows! I know! You caught her in the act of yet another massacre. We don’t need a judge or a jury, just an executioner.” He dropped the fish in the basin and grabbed another, cutting into it so quickly it barely registered he had sliced deep into the meat of his palm until the pain hit and blood started to mix with the fish scales.

“Matt, stop,” Dan said softly, taking away the knife and the fish and cradling his hand in both of hers. She pulled him to his feet and dragged him over to their water basin. His head was already spinning from blood loss. Gently, she cleaned the wound, dusted it with herbs, and muttered over it until the cut began to seal. “Be careful. You cut pretty deep. No carving for a few days.”

Matt nodded, blinking back tears. He looked around for the dragon and saw her at the door of the cave, retching on the ground outside. When she came back inside and sat with them again, there was a faint green cast to her face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “The blood.”

Matt laughed so hard he thought he might pass out. “The dreaded Scourge can’t handle the sight of blood.”

“No, I can’t. I hate it. It makes me sick. I never want to see another drop of blood again in my lifetime unless it be my own,” the dragon snarled at him and Matt sat down.

“Let her tell her story,” Dan said.

Matt sighed and nodded.

“Has your family ever had any dealings with the Raven Court?” the dragon asked.

“My village tried to stay out of faerie business,” Matt said. “Especially when it came to the Unseelie. I’ve heard their name but that’s all.”

“You know that King Kengo’s younger brother Tetsuji tried to claim the Unseelie throne?” At Matt’s nod, the dragon continued. “He was cast out, along with Kengo’s secondborn, Riko. Tetsuji was broken beyond recognition but Riko has never forgiven his father for casting him away. He has been consumed by his need for revenge. He has been gathering up magic users of all kinds, trying to find ones that complement his own skills. Once he creates his perfect court, he intends to return to his ancestral home and take the throne for himself.”

“Where do you come in?” Matt asked.

“I was separated from my birthflight when I was very young, too young to defend myself. I was soon chained by a cruel nobleman and forced to entertain his various wealthy guests. He injured my wings so I could not fly. Riko killed him and seized his fortune and took me away from there. He was kind at first. He found me healers and they managed to save my wings. I was grateful and when he asked me to help him, I agreed. At first, I only had to stand and look intimidating when he was negotiating with magic users. Then he had me snatch them away from their families. And then he asked me to kill their families and the villages in order to keep Kengo from uncovering his plan. He told me they were evil or abusive, that I was rescuing victims instead of kidnapping people from their loving families. Eventually I realized the truth and I went to Riko and told him I could no longer be involved and that is when he...chained me and my actions were no longer my own. I was aware of every person I killed, every village I burned to the ground, but my wings and my fire, they belonged to Riko, and I was too weak to break free of him.” The dragon sobbed once, tears sizzling on her cheeks and vanishing in little plumes of smoke.

Matt looked at her. She could not meet his eyes. She looked at once so old and impossibly young. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“What? No,” the dragon lifted her head and stared at him. “It is I who am sorry. I deserve your anger. I deserve to die at your hands for what I’ve done.”

Matt looked into her eyes and tried to hate her but he recognized the look in her eyes, the grief, the loss. “Did you want to kill my mother?”

“No,” she wept. “I didn’t want to kill any of them once I knew the truth. I...remember her. She clutched that toolbox to her chest. She cried out your name as she died. She begged me not to kill you.”

Matt closed his eyes in a rush of tears. He was not sure how long he cried but when he opened his eyes again, it was to the wool of Dan’s cloak as she held him. The dragon was huddled close to the flames once more, her back to them.

“I don’t think we could ever be friends,” Matt said, voice hoarse from crying.

The dragon jumped, startled. “What?” she asked.

“I can’t just forget what you’ve done,” Matt said.

The dragon slumped, every word a blow.

“But I won’t deny you the chance to atone, to become something more than what Riko made you. We can’t be friends but we can be allies. Will you stand with me against Riko?” Matt stood, hand outstretched.

“Matt, even I am not strong enough to face down the Raven Court,” Dan objected.

“Then we’ll find people who are. Surely we are not the only ones that Riko has hurt,” Matt said stubbornly, still holding his hand out to the dragon. She clasped his hand briefly, long enough for him to feel the heat in her skin and nodded briefly.

“We can’t call you the Scourge,” Matt said softly.

The dragon ducked her head. “My name was Nat’alie but the Scourge is who I have become.”

“Renee,” Dan said suddenly. “It means reborn. This is your chance to start over.”

“Renee,” the dragon whispered softly and smiled for the first time. “I like it.”

“In my travels I met a man named Wymack,” Dan said. “It’s a long shot but if we’re going to do this, if we’re going to take down the Raven Court, I think we should begin by finding him.”

Matt reached down and picked up his box of tools. “When do we start?”


End file.
